We were married last year.
You promised some things, and I did too. There were words thrown around like “love” and “forever” and “yours” and “mine.”
We swore to each other in front of friends, family and a few strangers that we would love and cherish each other until our very last breath.
I didn’t know what I was saying then. Not really. I didn’t know that every day I would find new things I loved about you, and new ways to fail at loving you like I should. I am a new wife, and have not yet grown to be a great wife. But I am trying. And I think that makes me, at least, a good and honest wife. So, there’s that.
Speaking of honesty, I can honestly say that there is no one in this world that loves you like I do.
I love the way your name feels in my mouth and how effortlessly it falls out of it whenever I call for you.
I love the way you come when you hear it, because you know in that moment I just really need to be sure of you.
I love the way your eyes linger over my face the same way your arm lingered over my bare shoulders that summer I wore only tank tops.
I love the way you look at me like I am familiar, but new, and you’re still trying to learn me.
I love your arms wrapped securely around my waist. Not casually or haphazardly, but firmly and tightly, like you’ve found what you’re looking for and you’re not letting it go.
I love when you put your head in my lap and the way you get so serious when we talk about our crazy plans for the ever changing, ever approaching, ever loving future… muttering over how much there is to do to prepare for the years to come.
I love having years to come.
I love you, Daniel. Here’s to year 3.
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